


Unconventional Family

by PeachTale



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Family, Gen, Hisoka Morow Week, phantom troupe mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachTale/pseuds/PeachTale
Summary: When Hisoka shuffles his cards it brings back the memory of them, of his family, of everything they have taught him, his parents and the queens and kings of his village. Having just passed the Hunter Exam he now has a choice, to go home or go to Heavens Arena.
Kudos: 8
Collections: Hisoka Morow Week





	1. 10 of Hearts

Day 1. Cards/Happiness/Loneliness

Shuffling his cards always helped him to remember them, to remember the times when he had been around people who openly accepted him as he was, who never questioned him about his desire to fight, or his choice in clothes, or even if what he was doing was _wrong_. With them he had never needed to prove himself, although if he did do something wrong to one of them there was usually a conversation to be had if he did rub one of them up the wrong way. Which was never what he set out to do with them, at least not those in what he regarded as his family. Those _outside of it_? It was free game and they were fine with it.

Though he was the one who choose this kind of dangerous life style, _he_ was the one who found such a thrill in fighting against powerful and challenging opponents, the risk of dying in every fight he took part in caused him to never think about those he could potentially leave behind, his own person need and desire to fight was the whole reason why he left the comfort and warmth of his home.

Of course no one could say that he was the only person within his family to be selfish, although his way wasn’t like what the rest of them did in regards to being selfish, but no one shy’d away from being put into that position, everyone was selfish to some degree after all.

The one reason that Hisoka was the anomaly within his family was due to his desire to fight just because he wanted to, he didn’t always have that need to protect people who may be weaker than him, no desire to go out on stage like so many in his family would do. Of course with Heavens Arena he had the best of both, he was on stage _and_ got to fight, it was just lucky for him that it happened that way.

His parents did wonder; as did he when they discussed it; was where this part of him came from, because it certainly didn’t come from those who raised him, they were happy to fight but they always needed a motivation to do so, it was never out of a rush or thrill in it, so _perhaps_ it was his biological parents that were the cause for this. Not that he could remember them, not that he wanted to find them either, what was the point when he had his parents right there already?

His parents were always open about their concern about him risking his life when fighting, which had started after a few sessions with his mother teaching him the basic techniques in certain fighting styles, and then when those of his extended family, those he regarded as his aunts and uncles, were harassed and threatened he would come up and get into a rather lack luster fight. They had tried to lead him towards things that wasn’t so dangerous, but they learned that this wasn’t a desire as such, it was more like a compulsion, something that wasn’t so easy to switch off and ignore. Although it had been difficult, particularly for his mother, they left him alone with that fighting desire, with the other drag artists looking at him as a kind of guardian of sorts, though he wasn’t sure how to feel about that exactly, aside from it being like a repayment to them for everything they had helped him with as he had been growing up.

He smiled as he remembered all those drag artists, the kings and queens that were nearly always around him, who would teach him so many different things in their own groups, and Hisoka, little child Hisoka, was _always_ wanting to learn new things from them, things that couldn’t be learned from books, things that had to be _experienced_.

Not that he was a stupid child, his parents had taught him as much as they could about the basics, along with other learnings about the world as a whole, he also ended up looking for more information about certain things when it was clear that they had reached their own limits in teaching him. All the kings and queens taught him different things that he would never have learned in a classroom, he learned card tricks, how to gamble like a pro and have the _perfect_ poker face, he was later taught how the playing cards could be used as tarot, and it was in that lesson that he took a shine to the Joker card; which was why he used his playing cards to send a message across to his opponents, at least to an extent. Him using the playing cards in his fights was also a homage to those who had taught him so much about the cards, regardless of whether it was just how to play or more of the background of each individual card.

It felt like he could almost _smell_ his family home as he shuffled the cards, the rooms that were filled with high and tense energy, the drinks flowing freely, the obnoxious laughter that filled the air as well as the warmth from all the bodies of the drag artists that were in the room, getting undressed after a final show, some would be half dressed as they began drinking, while other’s would remain in full glam until they would either pass out, or they would leave to change into their more drab clothing.

His memories took him to the time when they had taught him how to apply make-up, helping him find the right foundation for his skin, showing him the _perfect_ way to apply eyeliner and in doing so how to create a killer wing that could kill a man. Then he learned how to treat his face like a canvas, he needed to take care of it and that resulted in a skincare routine that was now well established in his bathroom at Heavens Arena, although he did have more simple products when he travelled. He was also taught about face paints, how to make a star and tear drop on his cheeks, which were the first one’s that he learned and he liked them, they made a statement; a heart was tried once to replace the star but all his other aunts and uncles cried out that a heart was incredibly common and boring when it came to the face, and that was enough to have him stick to a star and tear drop as his signature look.

Everything he had done in the years of fighting was a homage to them, though they would never know about his exploits, or even be fully aware of what he actually did. Yet he knew that they would be proud that his make-ip would remain flawless, his face paint never shifting, his card techniques being perfect and then of course his clothes _and_ shoes that he would wear to make a bigger statement to those who met him, allies or foes, they weren’t likely to forget who he was.

As he thought more about his dramatic, flamboyant and incredibly loving family he felt a cold caress of loneliness.

The Phantom Troupe was in no way a replacement for them, how could they be when they were always so distant? They _barely_ cared about each other from what he had seen when members had been replaced, in fact as he thought about it he realised that the only one’s he knew were somewhat close to each other were the original members, and even then it was a bit of a push. Though some of them regarded the Troupe as a family, yet Hisoka knew they were nothing of the sort, at least not anything remotely like the family that had raise _him_. Though perhaps that was another reason why he was the odd one of the Troupe, _maybe_ how the Troupe was really was how a family behaved and his upbringing wasn’t standard at all.

The care that he always received from his family was so much more obvious that it was out of love, there wasn’t any threats of blood and violence involved when there was upset or anger, instead? There was alcohol, cake, face masks and soothing jazz; it was about being open, talking about who they were sleeping with currently, the tests they took because they feared they had caught something from their partner – only to laugh when it was really a reaction to wheat – it was commenting about how someone’s wig looked, causing a rather loud and incredibly _bitchy_ argument that would be resolved with more alcohol, another drag artist getting involved to calm the pair down, causing them to see how their argument was over something silly and then bring Hisoka into the mix, stating that they could teach him how to create that kind of design in a wig.

The thought of Hisoka helping out _any_ of the drag artists would always be enough to make them calm down, though he was fully aware that it was because he was, in a sense, the child of the group, he was the one that they saw themselves as _all raising_ ; which of course wasn’t true, but he was more than willing to learn how to create wig designs and anything to sooth over the argument was fine with him.

There was now a choice to be made, he could go straight to Heavens Arena, or he could go back home for a while. He still had time before the airship for either location would leave and he continued to shuffle his cards without looking down, instead his eyes continued to look at the times of both airships before he finally pulled out a card and he looked down at it with a smile on his lips.

The ten of hearts.

The family card.

  
  



	2. 8 of Clubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka thinks about the past where he learns of failure in an unusual place, and finally calls home.

Day 2. Family

He boarded the airship and took his assigned seat, before ordering a drink and looking out of the window, taken back into his memories of the past and more importantly about his family.

A slight scowl appeared on his face as he thought about the Phantom Troupe, who had a rather loose facade of being a family, yet from all that he had seen, they were just a gang, just a group of people who were brought together by one charismatic person. There was nothing to keep everyone tethered together aside from the fear of actually being alone, as once Chrollo was gone? The whole group would all apart like a house of cards, regardless of how confident many in the Troupe acted, or what Chrollo said about one of the legs taking his place, he knew how heavily reliant the Troupe were on the man, if he were to be _killed_ , no one in the group could take his place. No one would feel _worthy_ enough to take his place.

Of course he was well aware that he was the black sheep of the Troupe, it wasn’t just because he kept away from missions that Chrollo would sent out to them; missions that he personally felt were _beneath him_ and they were just a request rather than a requirement; and he never saw them as anything more than a group he had to infiltrate, he wasn’t there to make friends, he wasn’t there to gain a _family_.

He has a family, his own found family, or rather they found _him_. They had taken him under their wing and raised him in such a way that the outside world didn’t understand him, and he was barely able to understand the outside world.

Of course his family were rather unique in the grand scheme of things, they didn’t have the same norms that most of ‘polite society’ had, his father was a man who was practical and _very good_ at de-escalating tense situations; years of practice on his part, he has been living with demanding people for many years of course; along with being able to get money out of _anyone_ regardless of who they were in the ranks. His mother, a drag queen who was the life and soul of the club they ran together, was someone who had _many_ different interests and had many drag artists flock around them for advice. They were someone who could walk and talk like a dignified lady, but could also fight and curse like an uncouth man if they felt the situation needed it.

As soon as his drink was brought to him, he remembered one of the last times that he and his mother had been together in the sewing room, they had been looking over his clothes that he had created.

“Darling _what_ are you wearing?” they had asked curiously, their dark eyes looking curiously over the outfit that the teen had carefully put on, they took a step back to look at his clothing fully, an amused smile on their red lips.

Hisoka was simply trying to make an outfit for himself, he had come up with the idea in his head, he knew _exactly_ what he wanted and _how_ he wanted it, but he wasn’t able to transfer the idea on fabric.

It didn’t seem to matter how hard he had tried to follow the instructions of his mother, or of the other drag artists who had attempted to help him this time round with the machine sewing _and_ hand sewing, yet it still didn’t come out anything near what he had envisioned. This was the first time that he realised that he couldn’t learn something easily, even when he kept at it, trying to learn over a few months he just couldn’t get the hang of sewing.

He had simply looked at the outfit he was wearing, because what could he say to them? Their outfits always looked sublime, outstanding and unless you had seen them working for hours on end, you wouldn’t have known that the outfits were all done by hand. He was wanting to emulate them, to try and show case his clothes in his own kind of fashion.

“Come here you silly thing.” they took his wrist into their own tanned hand and pulled him close, it was clear that he was getting taller, nearly the same height as they were and he likely still had some growing to do. “You know what I think?” they asked him, though his eyes just glanced at them, wondering what they were thinking and how much would their words hurt. “I think you need a more profession touch for your outfit.”

“Because I can’t sew.”

“Exactly.” they told him and suddenly pulled him into their embrace. “Oh Hisoka, you need to recognise that there will always be things that you simply cannot do. Sewing is something you just can’t pick up, which is just as well really.”

He looked up at them, because everyone else around him was able to pick up sewing and yet he _couldn’t_. “What do you mean?”  
“Well you can juggle anything… although dear I really must ask you to not do that again with the kitchen knives, that was too much for me. You learn things incredibly quickly if you’ve seen it once, honestly I was beginning to wonder if you were even human, and thankfully you do.” they kissed his forehead, reassuring him that they weren’t insulting him in the slightest, which was a relief.

Yet he did wonder if his inability to sew meant that he wasn’t creative, he had seen all the outfits the drag artists would create, was he _boring_? Did he truly belong around all these kings and queens?

“Maybe I...”

“Your outfits are far more complicated than most of our outfits. Look at this design, a corset that you can pull on and looks like rings? Harem pants with those rings attached to the ankles?” they commented on the rough sketches that Hisoka had come up with. “Darling the outfits we create already have a general outline for them, a dress is easier to create when there is already a base to go with, a suit is easy to put together when you have a foundation to follow. _You_ are wanting something completely different, you need to find a tailor who can work with these designs.” they smiled at him. “And your father would know _just_ the person to go to.”

They stroked his cheek, knowing that failure wasn’t something he was used to, after all he was somewhat of a gifted child. Everyone commented on it, though this was a reality check that he had needed.

“Will they actually be willing to do the work?” he asked softly, enjoying the tender touch, although most of the drag artists were touchy, he always preferred for the people to touch him being the one’s he was close to and after a few mistakes, everyone respected his boundaries, just as he did for them.

“Oh I would think so, they do enjoy a challenging project.”

He smiled at the memory as he took a sip of his drink, the tailor he worked with had been ecstatic at the design he had presented them with, creating different ideas from that one concept, all of which he _loved_ and went with. He still worked with them even now, although the person he worked with originally retired a few years ago, but the flare for dramatic clothing hadn’t been scaled down, now that he had the money flowing in, he could order clothing as often as he wanted and it would arrive in a month without him needing to say much about design but instead given them colours and when it would be worn.

He pulled out his mobile and made the call.

“Hello?” a regal voice came through, a voice of a queen who should be ruling their kingdom instead of answering the phone.

Just hearing their voice made him feel more settled and at home than he had previously. “Hello mother.” he said softly, pulling the phone away from his ear as a shriek came down the line.

“Hisoka! Oh my… is that… oh darling, where are you? We were all wondering how you were… how you got on with that exam you were telling us about.” they managed to calm themselves down, though their tone was still a touch higher than usual.

He chuckled, because _of course_ they knew he was taking an exam, they knew what was involved in it too and had attempted to talk him out of taking it, though they knew it was difficult to pass, and Hisoka never stated his reasons for wanting the Hunters license. Yet in the end, they supported him though still unsure about _why_ he was wanting to go through with it.

“The exam went well.” he informed them, thinking about the new fruits that he had been so lucky to find during it, as well as finding an old acquaintance too. It was just as well that he had failed the exam last year, otherwise he would have missed out on these new toys that he would get to play with in the future.

“You’ll need to tell us all about it.”

“Of course.” he agreed, but decided to keep quiet about his return, he wanted to surprise them.

“Your father is here… am sorry dear, I have to go and practice for the new show.” they were so apologetic. “You should try and call before the afternoon here, I will have more time to talk then.”

“I understand mother, I hope to hear all about it another time.” he assured her, his smile never left his face.

“ _Or_ you could come and see it, I swear dear, you are working too hard.”

“I will do my best to see it, when does it begin?” he asked, mentally giggling to himself.

“Oh tomorrow night, but let your father know and he can organise seats for you… love you!” they were off the line before Hisoka could share his sentiments, he briefly heard his parents talk in low voices, or at least as low as his mother could manage before the phone was passed over.

“Hello Hisoka.” came the rather exhausted voice of his father, sounding like he had been awake since the crack of dawn. He likely had, there was always so much organisation to do before a show after all, and he liked to make sure everything was being done _right._

“Hello father, I take it mother has been going overboard with the show again?” he teased him.

His father had been the one to train him how to dance, although he never played favourites when he was teaching the other people who came in to learn how to dance. The only difference was after the classes were over, he had ice packs, soothing gel and pain killers ready for him when he needed them. Though Hisoka rarely used any of them, the pain always made him feel just as much alive as the actual dance did.

“We both know how they get with the shows.” he commented with a quiet chuckle. “And I take it you’ve passed the exam?”

“Hmm, it was too easy.” he freely admitted, out of his two parents, his father had a better grasp as to what Hisoka was like when he was away from the warm embrace of his large family, although Hisoka had no idea how he had been able to figure it out.

“How many did you kill?”

It was _always_ a surprise to hear his father ask such a blunt question like that, particularly a man with no nen knowledge and who ran a queer club on the outskirts of Metero City. Yet he always asked him about his kills one he learned how Hisoka earned so much money, and having learnt that his son had actually started to go out of his way to protect those within this rather unique community that they had.

“A few.” he attempted to play coy, not that it ever worked on his parents.

“ _Hisoka Morow.”_

He winced. “The applicants would have been terrible Hunters, they had no skill or intelligence to see them through the exam, I simply put them out of their misery.”

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line, making him wonder if his father was still there, or had he disappointed him? But given everything that he had already done, had _this_ been the tipping point?

“I know you didn’t just kill them because of that, it’s beneath you to do such a thing.”

He let out a breath, pleased his father was still there. “Well, a few of them did think that due to them being lost in a fog, we should all simply give up and try again next year.”

“Uh huh.” his father knew there was more to it than that.

“And of course they did challenge me.” finally he admitted it, though his father never had to say too much to get him to open up, to admit why he did what he did.

“So they deserved it.”

Most people wouldn’t think like that, but Hisoka knew what his father was like, unforgiving of _anyone_ who would dare to threaten those he considered precious to him.

“Yes, and it was better to end it without having to fight.”

“ _And?”_

With a sigh Hisoka relented, there was little to no secrets that he could keep from his father, though the man was so much better at keeping them than his mother. “I also found some new toys to play with.”

“I see, and you believe they will be on your level at some point?”

He held a breath as he thought about those _eyes_ , those _expressions._ “In time they will be.”

“It’s good that you have learned how to be patient, they can grow more in their nen.”

“And then...”

“ _Hisoka.”_ was the warning and it broke the red head out of his revere, reminding him of where he was.

“I think I should go father.”

“All right, it was good talking to you son.”

“You too… actually, I am actually on my way back home. A quick visit before I go back to _work_.”

“So you’ll be here in time for the show?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Well I’ll have a seat for you, in the shadows away from the stage. We can’t have you surprising your mother while they are on stage after all.”

“I know...”

“You know how much they love surprises, and I wouldn’t _dream_ of telling them that you are coming home.”

“Thank you.”

They said their goodbyes and he hung up, feeling relieved that he would be getting to go home and back to his own brand of normality.


	3. 9 of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka is back home, in the club of his parents and he finally feels more complete than he ever had before. Even when his mother is ranting because of his injuries.

Day 3. Scars/Night

Arriving the evening of the first show at the club and he could _feel_ the tension in the air, although no one else in the audience felt it, how could they if they weren’t aware of what signs to look out for? His seat was in the shadows of the club with a spare seat beside him, knowing the man preferred to be in the shadows so that the performers wouldn’t be aware of his judgement regarding any movements they got wrong, or their lines, or even the costumes not being up the his standards.

The tension that was bubbling away wouldn’t leave until the show was over for the night, although it would return the next evening, then the evening after that until the shows run was over and the show would return to being a basic, simple comedy show, at least until an all new show, one that would be dramatic and would wow the audiences with.

Hisoka had once spoke to his father about the tension that radiated off him when he was younger and naive about the feelings the man was giving off at the time, he had simply been trying to calm him down but instead his father just left his seat, leaving his son along and never returned until the show was over. It had been rather distressing to begin with, Hisoka wondering if this meant they were also going to kick him out; he hadn’t been living with them for that long after all, they _could_ kick him out; yet instead the older man sat down to talk to him about it.

He hadn’t needed to calm down, in fact it was better for him to be on high alert because then he would be aware of the mistakes that were made and he could figure out a way to fix them.

“ _Everything.”_ he began to tell young Hisoka. _“Is fixable, so long as you pay enough attention to how the issue occurred in the first place.”_

It was advice that Hisoka took to heart, beginning to look closely to things so he would be able to figure out how to fix them, and later he would figure out how to get into people’s head to make them fracture, all due to his father’s advice. Yet after that chat, he never tried to calm the man down again, at least not when in relation to a show that was being put on.

In his eyes the show was perfect, but out of the corner of his eye he could tell that to his father is wasn’t, however this was the first night, this was the prime time to tweak the show if anything fell flat, the audience would let his father know if the comedic lines came across as desired.

As the night began to come to a close, the lights dimmed on stage as the curtain swooped over the drag artists on the stage who had come out for their final bow and the ovation fo the crowd; a crowd that would _deny_ that they had ever ventured into such a place, they were happy to enjoy the show but they would _never_ respect those who were a part of it when they were outside the club.

The two men stood up and looked at each other for the first time in a long while. The older man noticed the outfit his snow was wearing, pale blue in colour which suited him, but the style of it made him look a lot like a circus performer, though he knew that was likely the aesthetic that he was going for, then he also noticed that his son was taller than he had been before, but that could also because he kept forgetting just how tall Hisoka was.

Hisoka was aware of the extra grey haired, the new wrinkles on his face and yet his father looked as lively as he always did, a little bit tired but just as sharp as usual. Of course many people thought that he was a push over, because his partner was so loud and boisterous, they were rather intense that they just assumed that he didn’t even _attempt_ to argue back. Which Hisoka knew full well was incorrect, he had heard many arguments between his parents over the years he had been living with them, and it always resulted in a compromise of some sort once both parents were open about their issues to each other, while could become rather intense; which did result in young Hisoka being worried that he would be thrown out of the home, it was just something his mind kept going back to, though he did learn that there was nothing to be concerned about in the end.

“It’s good to see you.”

The two men hugged, Hisoka not having returned home since his early twenties and received a long hug from his father, though he had kept in contact, sometimes not as well as he should have, but he made sure he called them at least every two months unless he was stationed somewhere like at Heavens Arena, then he would call them once a week.

As they parted there was a sudden loud shriek from the stage before a clacking of heels hitting the wooden steps which resulting in them both looking at the drag queen in a high blonde wig, dramatically made up face with thick false eye lashes and a long pastel purple silken robe.

“Hisoka!”

The red head moved into the aisle for them to approach them, their manicured hands out stretched and he took them into his own, before they came close to kiss both his cheeks as he did the same to them.

“Dear why didn’t you say on the phone that you were coming to visit?” they asked him, looking over him carefully before stopping at the sight of his shoulder. “Has this injury been seen to?” they shot a look over at the older man who was making his way to the aisle.

Though Hisoka smiled at them. “It’s clean mother.”

“Oh darling, you would _barely_ be able to look over the injury yourself.”

“There’s no blood.” he countered, because he had been able to clean the injury _and_ his shirt after all, but that line of reasoning wouldn’t work on them either.

“So you have cleaned it, well done, but what about the _injury_.” they sighed dramatically before shaking their head at him. “Oh where did I go wrong with you?”

It was going be become another moment of drama, Hisoka _knew_ it as he glanced over at his father, but not even he knew how to calm them down from this state. “No where, I just never had the time to properly look it over, and I forgot to ask father to look it over.” it was the only thing he could think of, _and_ it was the truth, one that they would be able to tell too. He never knew why his lies never worked on them, but it did with other’s though he suspected that his mother was just used to telling little fibs and whimsical tales that they could spot one out easily.

“I suppose you can wait a little bit longer until we’re home, then _I_ will look it over.” they told him, getting him to lower his head and kissing his forehead before heading back behind the curtain to get changed.

Once they were gone, his father let out a sigh of mock relief. “You are going to have a long time with them chatting your ear off son.” he warned him, though Hisoka never minded that, he had a close bond with both his parents, they both balanced him out with there contrasting ways and he appreciated that about them.

Entering the house, the scent just returned Hisoka to the time that he had been a child and having first arrive here, unsure about the people around him, wondering if what he was seeing before him was even _real_. The people here were so colourful and vibrant, things that he had never been around before, but now he was older and used to the home and it’s intensity he just felt like he was _home_ , he could relax and enjoy being around his family for a while.

“Right. Let’s get this injury seen to.” his mother said and started to herd him towards a side room before pausing to look over their shoulder. “Oh darling, a nightcap?” then they continued to herd him into the room, a sewing room, and Hisoka wondered how many rooms had been a sewing room only to become a dressing room after a certain period of time.

It wasn’t surprising to find there was fabric all over the place, like it was just thrown to the floor without a care, but he knew how their mind worked, a mess to one person was a well thought out plan to someone else.

“Right, now off with this.” they ordered as they cleared a space before gesturing for him to sit down, then they gathered some supplies to clean up his injury.

Hisoka took off his crop top and then his specially designed corset, revealing the deep cut on his shoulder, as well as the cut on his waist too.

“Oh… my… Dear what _have_ you been doing to yourself?” they looked over his injuries, going from his shoulder to his waist, trying to determine which needed their attention first.

“Just got into a fight mother, nothing to concern yourself about.” he assured them.

“ _Concern myself about?_ Listen here young man...” they took a deep breath at just the right time, his father came into the room with a large glass of wine and a whiskey on the rocks, making them turn to smile at him. “Thank you darling.”

“Of course.” the older man nodded and glanced over at Hisoka, handing him his drink. “Good luck.” he murmured before leaving the room at Hisoka thanked him for the drink, taking a sip of it to brace himself.

The rant went on and on, how they had raised him better than that, how he shouldn’t have gotten himself injured by what seemed to be the same weapon _twice_.

“Would it help that he knew of a technique to have four blades come at me?” Hisoka finally interjected, not that it did him any good, his mother continued to rant and he listened in silence while they began to clean his wounds, starting with his waist since he hadn’t bothered to see to it.

They bandaged it up and then moved to clean and stitch up his shoulder, tutting every so often as they did so. “You are going to make me look so _old_ with all of your shenanigans, you realise that don’t you?” they finally calmed down enough to include him into the conversation.

“You know I don’t mean to.” he admitted, because he didn’t, he usually would come back home when his injuries had healed up with barely a trace to see.

Now he was exposed before them, they could see every scar he had gained in his fights, all of them had healed nicely and without their assistance, but he saw the look in their eyes, they had questions about all his scars, regardless of how minor they were.

He couldn’t remember how he got all of them, except those from fights that had made him feel so _alive_ , from battling those who were incredibly powerful that he could have been killed and yet he wasn’t. He remembered the fights that were worth while, the one’s that he relished and coveted, the one’s that disappointed him were the injuries that he could barely remember how he got those scars; he had hoped that those opponents would end up being more powerful, after all he had thought they would grow more with their nen after all. Yet he killed them quickly with a few cuts to himself, a few scars that he never remembered how he received them.

They stayed in the room for the rest of the evening, sipping on their drinks and moving to sit on the floor, draping the fabric around them as they leaned against each other.

“You know we worry about you. I understand that you want to go out and kill people, but the _risks_...”

He smirked, because this was his mother to a T and he wrapped his arm around them. “I know, but it compels me, I need that challenge, there is nothing else like it.”

“Are you sure? You are so good at quickly picking up things. Well, not making your own clothes thankfully, but couldn’t we figure out something to replace that urge to...”

“I’ve tried that.” he confessed, because he _knew_ that it wasn’t something _normal_ after all, but he leaned into them and just breathed them in. “My desire to kill can’t be moved by focusing on something else, it’s always there. Nothing else satisfies me like killing.”

“I suppose, and being a Hunter now would mean that you are able to avoid arrest now. But _do_ be careful dear.” they wrapped their arms around him as he nodded. “Well, I suppose we _should_ go to bed now, we’ve been up for most of the night chatting and I have rehearsals in the morning! Oh I am going to look so _haggard_ tomorrow!”

They both stood up and he chuckled. “ _Nothing_ makes you look haggard mother.” he assured them, earning himself a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh you sweet boy, at least you still know how to sweet talk people… unlike your father. _Oh_ the _stories_ I could tell you about him.” they said as they tutted once more, leading the way to Hisoka’s old room.

Before they left him alone, he got a goodnight hug and another kiss on his forehead, before watching them walk away and entered his room.

With a sigh, he felt like he was complete just being here and it would pain him to leave in the next few days, but he knew that he had to because of his bloodlust, which would build up over time given how some visitors acted towards his family and he wound up killing someone. Yet when that happened it was an outsider, someone who had been planning to kill one of his family and they hadn’t been missed, not that anything could be done about a missing person, Meteor City wasn’t one to have their own investigators after all, not even the Troupe bothered with that.

Yet he never wanted to run the risk that some day he would kill someone who _would_ be missed, which would result in his family being killed by his mistake. So he would leave, he would go back to Heavens Arena, after all he had to meet up with Gon once again didn’t he.

But for the moment? He would enjoy the time he had with his family, who knew when he would get to see them like this again.

  
  
  



End file.
